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158 



IN COMMEMORATION OF 



'THE SIXTH OF SErTEMBEU, ITISl, 



aPOKEK OfC 



S^PT. 6, 1325. . 



.^n^' 



BY WILLIAM F, BRAINARD, 



JS-EJV'LONDOJ'r: 

r-falSTED UNDEE THE DiEECTlOK OF THE COMMITTEE, 

1825. 









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■••^»^^\ .- ;l^^' 



JSTeW'London, /September 6th^ 1826. 
fVe, the subscribers, a committee appointed for 
ihis purpose, present you the thanks of the audi- 
ence assembled on Groton Heights, the 6th of 
September, 1 825, for the excellent and appropri- 
ate oration by you delivered, and request a copy 
for publication. 

Elias Perkiks, 

S. F. Denisoxv, J. Committee. 

James Mitchel, 



fJTi F» Brainard^ Esq. 






ADDRESS, &0. 



There is a tendency in our nature, to ven- 
erate what is ancient, and to wonder at what is 
distant. This leads us to pry into the concerns 
of antiquity, searching after statesmen and he- 
roes, who, through the mist of the distance, 
loom up into geniuses and giants. It leads us 
to explore climates and countries, which we 
paint the more fancifully, the further they are off. 
The Fortunate Islands are places in the west ; 
but where abouts in point of longitude, has nev- 
er been discovered. With respect to any event 
in history, wherein individuals are said to have 
signalized themselves, by personal prowess, 
the older the event, and the more remote 
the place, we believe with more credulity, and 
admire with more astonishment. Those who 
fought at Thebes and lUium were " joined with 
auxiUiar Gods ;" and as the story goes, were, 
sometimes, more than a match for them. Those 
who first ventured on the water, under Jason, 



to explore their waj from the streights of the 
Dardanelles, to the Black Sea, were regarded 
as heroes, by the crew of Columbus ; and the 
crew of Columbus were venerated, m theh- turn, 
hj the sailors of Cooke and Parry. — Bold was 
the man who first ventured on the sea : Yet how 
many, from this very region under our eye, are 
in the habit of daring its perils. How many, 
from this spot, have explored the world ; how 
many, have met the shock of the Iceberg, or been 
shipwrecked on the shore, or have sickened and 
died, in foreign climates, or have been drowned 
in the ocean ! A single instance is selected out 
of many. 

John Ledyard the traveller, was a native of 
this place. If ever a national tale should be 
written in this country, by a competent hand, 
John Ledyard the traveller, must be one of its 
characters. The enthusiasm of that man, and the 
freedom, with which he subjected a great consti- 
tution to bodily suffermg, would put into shade 
all the heroes of Scottish romance. In him, as 
far as concerned their v>^anderings, was concen- 
trated the whole spirit of the pilgrims, with the 
enduring perseverance of the martyrs, and the 
enterprize of Columbus, He walked the Arc- 
tic Circle, till the strangeness of his'^journey, 
which encouraged neither stages nor turnpikes. 



and which none but an enthusiast could under- 
stand, alarmed the rude inhabitants of Eastern 
-Russia, who stopped him, and banished him, and 
that on pain of death if he returned, because they 
could not comprehend the philosphy of his trav- 
els. This man, besides many other voyages, 
sailed with Cook round the world; and was with 
him when he v/as killed at Owyhee, His great- 
est sufferings v/ere in liis Russian travels, where, 
destitute and on foot, he went from Bothnia to 
Siberia, six thousand miles. He died at Cairo in 
Egypt, in the service of .the African Association. 
Tiiis man v/as no boaster, and his sufferings 
never got the better of his spirit. His remark 
on this subject was characteristic of him ; '^I am 
accustomed" said he, to the African Association, 
when they were examining his qualifications, '' I 
am accustomed to hardships; I have known 
hunger and nakedness, to the utmost extremity 
of human sufFerins;. I have knon^n w^hat it is to 
have my food given me as charity to a madman ; 
and been, at times, obliged to shelter myself un- 
der the miseries of that character, to avoid heav- 
ier calamity. My distresses have been greater 
than I have ever owned, or ever will own, to any 
man. They have never deterred me from my 
purpose.%- But it is not intended to give biogra- 
phical sketches. 



6 

There is another tendency in our nature, a ten- 
dency to exaggerate^ to tell what we have seen, 
not exactly as we saw it ; and what we heard, 
not exactly as we heard it ; and to relate, by way 
of narrative, when no special solemnity binds us, 
matters of fact, not exactly as they were. We 
repeat a tale, with a little help of our own, so that 
as it goes from mouth to mouth, it seldom ends 
in a story less strange than the original. Under 
this disposition to exaggerate and misrepresent,^ 
this Country has been, on the whole, a sufferer. 
Our English friends, who write histories, trav- 
els, and reviews, about us, have not, as far as my 
reading extends, spoken "/o things asthey are^^^ 
they say that man and beast degenerate here : 
and that, in the face of the whale, that spouts on 
both sides of this continent — the sea serpent 
that visits our shore, and the bones of the mam- 
moth ; to say nothing of certain occurrences by 
sea and land. 

They boast of their ancestry ; they trace their 
descent from Goths, and Vandals, and Picts, 
and Huns, and Barbarians of every name. They 
appropriate all antiquity to themselves : and 
their history is more ancient than ours. We 
claim to be descended from civilized men ; who 
brought with them all the arts and sciences and 
civilization of England, and who nearly stripped 



it of its religion. The ancestry of this Country, 

that we boast of, was of two sorts, those who 

suffered for their religion, and those who fought 

for their liberty. Tiiey tell us of degeneracy f 

What have we degenerated from 7 Many of 

them profess to believe, as we do, in the doctrine 

of total depravity. — They would add to this the 

doctrine of a degeneracy in human nature, which 

is constantly progressing ; which makes their own 

condition, by this time, by no means enviable : 

add to this, that every thing in this country is^ 

and always has been, on a scale still smaller than 

in Europe, and what miserable wretches must we 

be ! " Say not why the former days were better 

than these, for thou dost not inquire wisely 

concerning this." This New Country, to be sure, 

is little indebted to the ancients, but it is still less 

indebted to those modern nations in Europe^ 

which have been cotemporary with it, since it 

was discovered. 

The truth is, the Old World has abused the 
New, from the first. They abused him who dis» 

covered it they abused the natives that 

they found here ; and say what they will, they 
have done nothing for it, through all its latitudes. 
They have visited us with injuries, and we have 
repaid them with benefits. In a commercial 
view, they wiU liot deny thi§. How long did the 



8 ^ 

lazy Spaniard expect tlie annual return of die 
Plate Heet? How long that the Soutli American * 
Colonist was to waste Ms life in coining Dollars 
for him ? 

And in North America, particularly in ■ New 
England, it should be distinctly understood, that 
the Pilgrims did not come as colonists ; they did 
not come at the public expense, or under pat- 
ronage and protection ; they v/ere not assisted 
and fUtedi out, they were compelled to renounce ; 
and came here for safety ; not under a governor 
as a colony, but under a clergyman as a perse- 
cuted congregation. They never meant to own 
a dependance on the British crown. 'Twas not 
right they should- Why, when they grew strong, 
were they hunted up in the wilderness, to bear- 
rayed against' the French in Canada? Was it of 
these men, or the descendants of these men, that 
the stupid ministers of Geo. III. expected that 
they should pay off their National Debt ? These 
strange protectors of ours, did for us, what? They 
taxed us, worked us, fought us, and belied us ; 
and it is an evidence of loyalty to this day to 
abuse us. 

Do we owe them any thing 1 either in honor, 
in gratitude, or in money ? 

Let the accounts be audited, — they need 
charge us nothing for their antiquity, their an- 



cestrjj their rights, hereditary and divine ; their 
dynasties, alliances, and legitimacies— we never 
had the articles. They may charge us with per- 
secution^ and call it protection — with the levies of 
our own men, and call it the defence of the colo- 
mes; v/ith tcixes, and call it government ; wiiliwar^ 
and call it discipline ; with abuse, and call it in- 
struction. If the balance be against us, we are 
fast paying it off ; and fast growing able to pay 
the remainder ; we are getting fast out of debt, 

Europe has felt the influence of the New 
World, and is feeling it more and more. The 
next revolution there (and they will have ano- 
ther,) will be unlike the last one ; it will be 
milder in its progress, and happier in its end. 

I have mentioned a tendency to magnify things 
ancient, and things foreign ; under the impulse 
of these forces, united," the one urging and the 
other beckoning, we should all of us set out on 
our travels, and keep on to the end of our pil= 
grimage. 

But there is another, and a stronger tendency^ 
the love of country, and of home.— He who crea- 
ted the planets, gave them a projectile motion, 
that would have sent them into regions of heat 
and coldj^to iSnish their destinies, God knows 
where ; but He added a countervailing force? 
that drew them, to the centre of their motion. 



10 

Tims liaye the wandering propensities of our 
nature heen brought to anchor, by a feeling more 
intense than they. It is the love of our native 
country ; it is more, it is a partiality, in that coun- 
try even, for the spot where we were born, and 
the scenes with which our youth, and perhaps 
our lives, have been conversant. Our friendship 
may vary its object, or even turn to enmity ; 
our love may fade into indifference, or flutter with 
inconstancy ; but our attachment to the beauties 
of that natural scenery, to which the eye has been 
habituated, increases with age, and is strength- 
ened by distance. Most men, who emigrate, 
and all who journey on the deep, let their fancy 
suggest whatever prospect it may, of wealth, hon- 
or, or pleasure, paint a still brighter picture in 
the back ground of the whole, and place, in long 
perspective, the prospect of their return. A re- 
turn, not to tlie friends of their childhood, for 
they will be scattered ; not to the beauties of 
their youthful love, for they will be faded ; but 
to these permanent objects, which will assert, 
and vindicate their conirol over the affections, 
as long as there is a dweller upon earth. 

There is no spot, however unpromising to a 
common eye, hwt can excite these feelings m one 
who is a native of it ; but if it be marked with sub- 
limity, or beauty, these feelings will be yet more 



il 

strong : and stronger still, if to these be added, 
traditions^ and recollections of great events, and 
high achievements, connected with it. For 
while we regard it with affection, we regard it 

with pride too. 

The place where we stand is a beautiful spot j 

the traveller ma}^ pause here ; the painter may 
stop here ; the lover of nature may linger here ; 

and the native born may dwell here. 

This is the spot whose moonlight beauty fed 

-the young enthusiasm of Leclyard the traveller ; 
and it was never forgotten' by him, in all his wan- 
derings, nor when he died in Egypt. Here are 
united the water and the land ; the river, the 
sound, and the ocean ; the beach of sand, and 
the shore of rocks, the islands and the main ; this 
consecrated height on vv^hich we are ; and the 
hills, plains, and woods m the distance ; the whole 
prospect varying with every change of season^ 
and every shift of wind : sometimes, still in the 
summer's evening, when the image of the moon 
in the water does not tremble with the wind, 
sometimes, marked with the perils of the y^^mief^ 
stornio 

Such a spot, no light inducement should com- 
pel us to abandon. Migrate if you will to the 
Western' Country, and settle on a Savannah, or 
;i Prairie, rich with the deposits of vegltable cor- 



ruption that is constantly going on, and filled with 
gases, that gender pestilence ; sigh for the breeze 
fresh from the ocean, that your infant lungs were 
made to breathe — you will never find a spot 
like this ! And if it need further endearment to 
bind you to it, as your home, this spot is not 
tvithout its history. 

In the Calender of human events, which began 
with creation, and is swelling with the progress 
of time, there is one of the loose leaves, that 
must not be lost. It is a leaf, illuminated on its 
margin with pestilence and war, with a conflagra- 
tion in that town and a massacre in this ; it is il- 
lustrated with a chart, as accurate as the laws of 
nature ; and it is adorned with that beautiful pic- 
ture which I have already explained. 

This leaf it shall be my endeavour to read.— 
Andyotc who are natives of this region, you who 
are actuated by the kind feelings, and local par- 
tialities that have been mentioned, you who are 
proud of the recollections which associate them- 
selves with all the objects about you, you who 
regard this place with feelings of noble enthusi- 
asm, and religious veneration, as the one where 
the call on you, is strongest to adore Him, who 
in the beginning created the heavens and the 
earth. You are my appropriate hearers, and mf 
indulgent audience » 



13 * 

Who trod this spot before the Deluge, when 
there were Giants in the Earth ? How did it look 
when the waters subsided ? How long, through 
the long soKtude that followed the devastation of 
Almighty wrath, how long, did it remain without 
an inhabitant? without a bird to sing in the air, or 
a creeping thing to worm along its surface ; how 
long, without a man, who might have wandered 
hither from his tribe ? 

From the days of* the Patriarchs, to the jour- 
ney of their descendants in the wilderness ; from 
the hunting days of Nimrod, through all the 
eastern empires, to the date of European histo- 
ry, through their ages of fable, and their ages of 
darkness, to which they recur in tracing their 
genealogies from their barbarous northern ances- 
tors, while they tell how Christianity prevailed 
by degrees, over their Scandinavian Mythology, 
where v/as this country ? where, during their 
chivalry, and crusades ? Guessed at by the wise^ 
predicted by the sanguine, on no better ground, 
than that there must be something on this side of 
the world, to balance the land on that ; but as 
much unknown, and as little believed in, as that 
hollow world that remains for discovery. . 

The great adventurer came — :the needle, 
whose new discovered magic he had trusted, 
trembled and varied in the binnackvand threat- 



^ ' 14 

ened to deceive Ms trust ; his crew mutinied a- 
bout him. There was one glorious moment in 
his life, when the man at the mast head cried 
Land ! But as soon as the new world was dis 
covered, it was laid open to the avarice of the 
old ; as Paradise was to the visitation of Satan 
and his followers from hell. The bridge was 
built, the passage was open, to Pizarro and his 
Spaniards, Drake and his pirates, Raleigh and 
his desperadoes. Some*were tempted hither 
from the worst of passions, some were driven 
here for the worst of crimes. 

Still, New England was unknown. It was 
settled by those, who were banished hither, by 
the same impulse of religious persecution, and 
united in the same cause. These men, and such 
as shortly followed them and settled in Connect- 
icut have since passed under the general name of 
the Pilgrims. They had their object in viett% 
and they achieved it here ; the great work of civil 
and religious freedom. How has it spread ? It 
was deep politics once, to talk of the balance of 
power in Europe ; we may now talk larger ; 
of a balance of power through the taorld. This 
vast Continent of freedom, so long oppressed 
and persecuted, lias faced to the right cibout,-^ 
Now it looks on Europe, and affects her poli- 
tics, her allionces^ ^^^ her wars. Greeks miA 



15 

Turks know us now ; the northern ridge of Afri- 
ca, from the pillars of Hercules, to the place 
where Carthage stood, knows us now. The Rus- 
sian, the Austrian, the Dane, and the Swede 
refer in their treaties to the disposition of Amer- 
ica. Britain respects us, Spain fears us, France 
wonders at us, and Ireland adores us with tears. 

And why should they not ? The old world is 
not yet rid of its feudal system, and its restraints 
upon conscience. Charter is extorted after char- 
ter, shackle is broken after shackle, and one link 
of their chains, after another, is filed away with 
the awkward instruments that their ingenuity de- 
vises. Here, Christians of all denominations 
have harmonized for a century, while the British 
Parliament still agitates the Cathohc Question. 
Our light, which was once hid under a bushel, 
is now placed upon a candlestick. 

I have been naturally led to the concerns of 
this Contment. Mindful of our design, let us 
return to the history of this spot. It was always 
inhabited by warlike men. The most powerful 
tribe of Indians in New England, and the most 
reluctant to surrender, were the Pequots ; they 
conquered the surrounding tribes, and made 
them tributary ; they restrained the Mohawks 
on the west, and the Naragansetts on' the east ; 
they fought the European settlers in the vrest^ 



16 

em parts of this State; but their favorite resi. 
dence was in the southern towns of this county. 
These brave men have left their history to be 
told by their enemies. The forces of this infant 
settlement, with some friendly Indians, who had 
seceded from the tribe, fought with them that 
decisive battle where Mason commanded, on 
the high ground to the east, which is just shut 
from our view by an intervening hill. 

Let whatever historian say to the contrary, 
they were brave men ; there is something in the 
country that serves to form the character of the 
inhabitants. 

Uncas, with his tribe of Mohegans, who were 
of Pequot descent, adhered ever to the cause of 
the settlers. 

There is this much to be said in favor of the 
Government of Connecticut in regard to its treat- 
ment of such remnants of the Indian tribes as 
have remained among us : there is a partial pro- 
vision made for their support, but not enough, 
they were a silent but a noble people ; and God 
forbid that they should be exterminated. Exter- 
minated ! for what ? You are arraying all your 
charities to civilize the heathen, the Lord knows 
where, whose wretchedness comes to you through 
the long alembic of a missionary report, in terms 
to flatter your piety, without shocking yoiu^ 



17- 

nerves ; while the poor, the ragged, and may be 
the drunken Indian is turned from your door, an 
object of not half so much disgust as the eastern 
wretches that they tell of. When the Indians 
Yiere your enemies, you did not send away your 
powder ; now that they are your friends, send 
not away nor withhold your charities ; but, bring 
them together, and direct your friendly aim, as 
you once did your hostile fire, so that it will telL 
How has it been with the Indians of the west 
and south, and how is it now ? cheated in the 
treaties that have been made with them, put off 
with a mess of potage, and urged to present hun- 
ger, that the temptation may take ; cheated of 
their possessions, and driyeii from their lands 
against their will ; cheated out of their wild free- 
dom, without a substitute to get their living by . 
savages without their woods, hemmed in by the 
lots of the planters, with the bow and arrow still 
in their hands. I am 2ifrlend of the Indians as Lo- 
gan was of the white men ; their cause is prefer- 
able to every other charity. There should be a 
department on purpose for them, of high govern- 
mental standing. Our fathers, with all their vir- 
tues have sinned in more respects than one ; and 
the very Providence that protected them, has said 
that He is jealous, visiting their iniquities upon 
their children, through many generations. 



IB 

It is sickening to think that the people of this 
Country will besot their consciences, under this 
strong call to civilize their own heathen, by send- 
ing to a distant land, small and pitiful donations, 
the spare change from the produce of farms, all 
of which were wrested from Indians, and some of 
which are cultivated by slaves. 

These remarks, in their full force, have but a 
partial application here. But the memory of that 
warhke race, whose land we occupy, associates 
itself with every continuation of Indian history. 

In the perils and sufferings of the French war, 
in the levies that were raised, and the expedi- 
tions that were undertaken, the people here par- 
took in common with the rest of the Colony. 

In the war of the Revolution, from the first out- 
breaking of violence to the return of peace, it 
contributed its men, to the public requisitions, 
II and to, private enterprize, in the naval service, as 
well as on land. It added to the forces of every 
campaign, and increased the combatants in almost 
every battle. 

At one time or another the British troops were 
in possession of Boston, of Newport, of N. York, 
of Philadelphia, and of Charleston. They tarried 
])ut three nights in Connecticut, during the whole 
of the war ; once at N. Haven, once at Danbury, 
and once at Fairfield. In every battle between 



10 

Bunker Hill and York-Town, from the beginning 
of tlie war to the end of it, Connecticut was fully 
and ably represented. Levies, enlistments, and 
requisitions, and the Naval service drew off much 
of the effective population to the assistance of 
other States, and left the residue to defend itself 
without foreign militia, and without Continental 
troops, except such as were recruiting to march 
elsewhere. Gardiner's Bay was often the resort 
of a strong British force, which a few hours sail 
could have brought here, and many circumstan- # 
ces conspired to make this port an object of de- 
sire. An attempt to take it was at last made, 
which produced a battle, and ended in what is 
commonly called the massacre at Fort Griswold 
and the burm?ig of JVew-Lomlon, These events 
are the special cause of our meeting ; it is proper 
therefore to be a little minute iu stating the par- 
ticulars of them. 

About midnight, between the 5th and 6th of 
September, 1781, a British fleet of twenty-four 
sail, principally transports, filled with troops, 
were attempting their entrance into this harbour. 
They had been fitted out for this enterprize at 
New-York, then in the possession of the British 
and had lain in silence, the day before, under the 
shore of Long Island. Their design w^as to have 
passed these forts, with the state of which they 



20 

were acquainted, in the night ; to have land- 
ed and accomplished their v/ork of destruc- 
tion on both sides of the harbour, to have passed 
to Norwich, and either, to have returned by the 
way they came, or marched through the country, 
west, to some place on the Sound, where they 
might have met their transports, as circumstances 
should direct them. This object was in part de- 
feated, by the wind failing, or shifting : they 
were discovered about day break, off the mouth 
of the harbour. But the discharge of cannon was 
then so common, that the alarm guns were little 
noticed. They landed on both sides the Har- 
bour's Mouth, in two divisions, of about eight hun- 
dred men each. The landing was not eifected 
till about 9 o'clock in the morning : that on the 
west shore was made west of the light house, 
near what we now call the Salt Works ; and it was 
led, and directed in its further operations, by a 
Leader who commanded the whole expedition. 
At this instant, every man's concerns were thick 
on his hands ; there was shipping in the harbour, 
and property afloat ;* there were women and chil- 
dren, the poor, and the helpless ; and the 
temptations to burn and to plunder were to be 
removed. 

The division which landed on the West was an- 
noyed and impeded by such means as were at 



21 

hand. A strong detachment of it was sent a- 
gainst Fort Trumbull, which was indefensible on 
the land side ; a small redoubt, on Town Hill, 
was taken, and with the exception of two com- 
panies left to keep the possession of these two 
places, the rest of the division entered the town, 
which they set lire to in different places ; to hous- 
es, barns, and detached buildings, as well as to 
vessels and stores. And they principally con- 
sumed it. Nine of our people were killed, and 
six of the enemy. 

Both the Forts were at this time entrusted to 
the keeping of Colonel William Led yard, who 
held his commission under this State, and they 
were occupied by a few State troops, not e- 
nough to keep up and relieve a regular guard, 
without the occasional aid of volunteers from the 
citizens. 

Immediately, on the appearance of the enemy, 
their object was perceived, and the probable re- 
sult foreseen. 

Colonel Ledyard made such dispositions for 
defence on the west side as were practicable. — 
He visited Fort Trumbull, and left its little gar- 
rison, under the command of Captain Adam 
Shapley, who afterwards died of that day's 
wounds, with directions to annoy the enemy while 
practicable, but in case of a formidable prepara- 



22 

tion for attack, to cross the harbour, and repair, 
as they accordiDgly did, to this, which was the 
stronger and commanding station. 

The prophetic spirit of Colonel Ledyard made 
certain the heroism of his character. As he shook 
hands, at parting, with some friends at New-Lon- 
don, while getting into the boat to return to his 
post, he said to them, without varying from the 
usual mildness of his manner, *« This day I loose 
my honor or my life ; which it will be, you, who. 
know me, can tell already." His neighbours and 
Mends, as they volunteered around him, proved 
the sincerity of their patriotism, by the Gospel 
criterion. " They left father and mother, wife 
and children, houses and lands," and some of 
them all these, in the cause of their country. 

Including his little guard, which was all that 
the enemy expected to surprize, he nianned his 
parapets with one hundred and forty-nine men ; 
who shut themselves out from the possibility of 
retreat, and nerved themselves for the struggle 
of man to man. 

The enemy had landed below Eastern Point, 
tinder Lieut. Col. Eyre, of the 40th regiment of 
Infantry, Majors ]\tontgomery and Broomfield, 
Capt. Beckwith, (afterwards Governor of Bar- 
badoes, and since Cdmmander in Chief of the 
army of Ireland,) and a complement of subordin- 



23 

ate officers. They had not been annoyed, or 
diverted, in their march, and now made their ap- 
pearance from behind the wood yonder ; and 
were first checked by the redoubt which was 
near it. 

Many around me remember the history of that 
day ; the flag, with the summons to surrender ; 
the onset, the storm, the conflict, the surrender, 
the barbarous refusal to accept it, for the Fort 
was surrendered, but the enemy was exaspera- 
ted at the bravery of its defenders, and dearly 
did they gain their victory ; the agonizing struggle 
which followed, of death-daring men, penned up 
in their fastness ; cries of suffering, shouts of vic- 
tory, imprecations of vengeance ! there, a burn- 
ing town, with not a soul to pour upon it a bucket 
of water 5 here, a wailing band of wives and 
children, in the act of becoming widows and 
orphans. 

The stillness of death succeeded — they buried 
their own dead, with the barbarity that marked 
their conduct ; in heaps, scarcely covered ; leav. 
ing them to the charity of their enemies for a iii^bre^ 
decent interment. 

Ours, to the number of eighty-one were strip- 
ped, and stretched promiscuously on the parade, 
within the Fort. Such of the wounded as 
could be easily found, were thrown into a wagon^ 



24 

which was set m motion down this hill : It struck 
a tree in its way to the water ; the shock killed 
some outright, some lingered awliile in agony, 
and some few survived. 

This scene of butchery and bloodshed alarmed 
even the perpetrators of it ; they determined to 
destroy the evidences of their cruelty. A train 
of powder was laid, in the evening, from the mag- 
azine to the barracks ; and the barracks were 
set on fire. This train of powder was accidental- 
ly discovered and disturbed ; the fire was extin- 
guished, and the intended explosion prevented. 
They departed in the dark, and rejoined their 
companions from the western shore in their trans- 
ports. Some of their wounded died on the way, 
and were buried on the shore ; some died on 
ship board, and were thrown, during the night, 
into the sea, and washed upon the beach ; and 
many were buried on Plum Island, to which 
they repaired. Two hundred and twenty w as 
their estimated loss, besides the wounded and 
the missing. 

Of the one hundred and forty-nine men who 
garrisoned this place, eighty-one were killed 
outright, and several died afterwards of their 
wounds. These, exceptinga few who were killed 
early in fair fight, were massacred, after the Fort 
wa$ surrendered : not shot, but killed with the 



25 

sword, the bayonet, and the but of the musket. 
But their wounded bo^iies, their convulsed mus- 
cles, and their diminished enemies showed that 
they had struggled to the last. 

During the night which followed, the candle 
was often held in succession, from face to face, 
of these dead. The mother with her infant at 
her bosom, baptised it with her tears, while she 
went from corpse to corpse, to find the body of 
her husband. Covered, as in some instances 
they were, with more than thirty wounds, and ex- 
piiing only when the last struggling muscle re- 
fused to act, they could hardly be recognised by 
their friends. 

They were bmied. No spot on earth is more 
honoiu'ed than the grave of a soldier. It is dug 
in haste, and his body is warm when it is placed in 
it. Divine Providenee has spared to this day a 
few eyewitnesses of this scene, to swear to the 
correctness of my narrative ; otherwise the world 
would not believe it. 

Who did this deed ? Eyre was mortally wound- 
ed at the beginning of the attack, and died short- 
ly of his woimds. Montgomery was thrust 
through with a spear as he attempted to pass by 
a gun, through the embrazure, and was cast dead 
into the ditch, before the Fort was taken; and he 
was afterwards buried bv himself within the ar- 



26 

row before the gate. Beckwith was well enough 
for all I know. He was afterwards called on m 
New-York, by a relative of Ledyard's, who 
would have avenged his blood ; and he satisfied 
him that he was personally innocent. 

The immediate infamy must rest on Broom- 
field, whose name and character have never 
since met the public gaze. It is ^said that he 
was afterwards promoted to the rank of a Brig- 
adier, and was employed in the East Indies, 
where he shot himself through the head with a 
pistol. 

There was a man who surveyed this scene 
from a corresponding height on the opposite 
shore. 

Of Arnold, if I say a word, I must crave your 
pardon. Is it worth while to add another curse 
to his memory ? the world has cursed him, not at 
once, but in succession. He has Id e en whipped 
through it naked. The Commander of the A- 
merican armies cursed him : and the armies that 
he commanded said Amen ! Andre cursed him, 
at the foot of the gallows, in the bitterness of his 
soul. Asgill cursed him, when he drew that 
awful blank in the lottery of death. When he 
joined his friends in England, after the Peace of 
'83, the multitude retired from about him, not 
with respect, but with horror. The British 



27 

Parliament, so strong were the sensations of our 
enemies even, was cleared of his presence, when 
he was accidentally seen in the Gallery, before 
business could proceed. To the deep damna- 
tion of such infamy is it possible to add? He 
is dead — -*' The memory of the wicked shall 
rot." 

The event which we now commemorate, was 
followed, for several years after it, by a dead si- 
lence, such as indicated grief, and became it.— 
During this period, no other procession could 
have wound its way up thi^ Height, to mark the 
return of this anniversary, but a funeral train, 
filled with numbers entitled to the sad, unwel- 
come precedence of walking next to the bier, 
as " David went up the ascent of Mount Olivet, 
and wept as he went up." Feelings of awe, too 
mournful for a public commemoration, have hith- 
erto withheld the footsteps of this, and the ad. 
joining towns from leading them, atone and the 
same time, to this spot. But time has passed. 
The anguish, at first so strong, has subsided into 
a more extensive, but a gentler feeling. A 
common impulse has at last brought us together, 
not to weep; it would be affectation. Those, who 
died here, had, most of them, attained an age, such, 
that the addition of forty-four years would have 
laid them in their graves. *'The Fathers are 



28 

dead, and the Prophets, do they live forever 7" 
We do not therefore come to lament the inevita- 
ble lot of humanity. *'It is appointed unto all men 
once to die," and who here shall say that these 
could have died better ? They were once claim- 
ed as the exclusive prop^ty of their weeping re- 
latives 5 their memories, and their virtues have 
now become the common property of their 
country. 

We are met neither to laugh nor to cry, for we 
keep neither a fast nor a festival : we are paying 
a tribute of respect to the memory of those brave 
men, who fell here, as patriots, and heroes. If 
their spirits yet sympathize with the concerns of 
mortality, they smile with complacency from 
yonder clouds, at our well meant undertaking. 

Say what you will, the world has made up its 
mind to venerate a hero. It stops for him, to 
take rank of all other great men. The Martyr, 
who dies at the stake, for. his religion, stands 
high : but the voluntary victim, who falls in 
battle, in the cause of his country, stands above 
him. 

Is your object glory ? follow the Statesman 
through the tedious manoeuvres of his diplomacy ; 
improve upon the acuteness of his mind, and the 
research of his industry ; follow the pursuit of 
science, and the invitations of philosophy ; fol- 



20 

low the mathematician in his analysis, till the 
subtle thread of the human intellect threatens 
to break ; but, is your object glory, and would 
you obtain it speedily and certainly? follow An- 
thony Wayne and storm Stoney Point. I speak 
of the world as it is. Its opinion is fixed, and I 
have not come here on an idle mission to re- 
form it. 

In this universal admiration, and in the indul- 
gence of this passion for glory, the people of this 
Country are not behind hand. We unitedly de- 
precate the horrors of war ; our destiny may 
be happier than that of becoming a military peo- 
ple : Yet no nation more hates the shame of a 
defeat, and none is prouder of a well fought bat- 
tle. Victory is not the criterion. Certain de- 
feat, voluntarily encountered, was the very glory 
of Leonidas. And seldom has there been an 
instance since, of greater self devotedness, and 
desperate fight, than this which we now com- 
memorate. It was in defending the just rights 
of this country, which Divine Providence had 
determined to assert, and these men were among 
the means. It was in protecting from insult and 
violence, the young, the old, the weak, and the 
defenceless, of this immediate neighbourhood ; 
and they were protected. It was in preserving 
the State from the desolating march, and con- 



30 

suming fire of a foreign foe, and it was preserv- 
ed : It was in support of all your institutions, 
civil and religious, and in furtherance of your lit- 
erary establishments, and public donations and 
charities ; and they have been succeeded and 
prospered. On the Door Posts of all these in- 
stitutions, the blood of these men was sprinkled, 
and the Destroying Angel passed them by. 

Is not the call from this spot strong on the Pub- 
lic gratitude ? Let the State, which owes this 
debt of Honor, to the estates of soldiers, who 
died in its service, record " well done"^ on some 
lasting memorial. It need not be smooth with 
the ornaments of foreign sculpture, nor adorned 
with the mythology of heathen devices ; it need 
not rise to the height of a Pyramid, nor be inscri- 
bed with any extravagance of praise ; it may be 
rude as the rocks about us, but let it be perma- 
^ent as the hill on which we stand. 

To it, shall the enthusiast repair in peace, and 
the soldier in war — here, shall exhausted patriot- 
ism be recruited. The flame burnt here, like the 
bush in Midian, and God grant it be never con- 
sumed. Departed bravery shall be honoured 
here ; the young shall learn the meaning of the 
inscription, before they can read it. It shall be 
the perpetual security of this spot from invasion. 
The bale fire shall be kindled at it, on the first 



Si 

alarm. It shall garrison this place with men, and 
the sight of it shall keep them at their posts. 
We are met, in the common love of our comitry, 
and of each other ; honouring the Government 
over us, of which we are proud, and for which 
we are grateful, and staunch to the present ad- 
ministration of it. Should any root of bitterness 
spring up hereafter to trouble us, and alas ! 
such is the state of man, that it may, let us repair 
hither ; let us shake hands over the grave of 
§Ledyard, and part in peace. 

But we are met, not to build a Monument, or 
to lay the corner stone of one. At some future 
time, when, or how, is uncertain, it will no doubt 
adorn this Headland ; and constitute, in part, the 
security of this exposed frontier. — We may be 
little known abroad, and perhaps overlooked at 
home, but the severe visitations of Divine Prov- 
idence shew, that we have not been forgotten. 
The sword, the fire, the pestilence, the hostile 
attack, the continued blockade, the constant a- 
larm have called us to mutual assistance and 
sympathy, and should make us the fast friends 
of one another. 

In such hands, whatever structure may be here 
raised, the keeping of it will be safe. The 
relatives and decendants of the dead may be pre- 
sumed to inherit a portion of their spirit, and 
will defend the sepulchres of their fathers. 



■82 



Never again, it may be fairly predicted, never 
again will this spot be invaded with success. We 
owe this assurance to the bead defeii^ders of 

THIS PLACE. 

Yonder are their graves—peace to their mem- 
ories ! 



S. Grem, PvlnL 



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